The Collector

Chapter One

Sam Richards glanced around the parking lot. With a toss of his head, the blond drape of bangs covering his forehead shifted, giving him a better view. An elderly woman trudged along behind her cart, she didn't raise her head or look his way. Good. He slammed the trunk closed. He shoved his hands in his pockets, missing his old bibs, jingling the change in the bottom of the right one. He snorted, playing pocket pool, where had he heard that? One of the geezers his granddad knew, sick old bastards.

He glanced around one more time before climbing inside his car. It wasn't much, but it was his, free and clear. He gazed into the rearview mirror, adjusting it for the new seat position. Perfect. He sighed, twisting the key. Almost gone.

The engine turned over and the car roared to life. He took one last look around before his foot nudged the pedal and the car gunned out of the parking lot. Damn, the thing had a lot of pick up. He'd have to remember that. Better not to draw attention when none was wanted.

He focused on the rearview mirror, he adjusted it again so the backseat's image filled it. The girl was still out, hands joined together in front of her, almost like she was praying, the duct tape snug. He hoped he'd given this one just enough. It sucked if they didn't wake. As far as he was concerned, the whole exercise was a waste of time then.

Sam licked his lips and swallowed, a new one to add to the fold. And, she was damn near perfect. His gaze settled on the bundle in the backseat. Silky flesh, the color of creamed coffee, beckoned to him. His eyes continued their journey, dark brown hair in soft little ringlets clung to her face. He sniffed and the scent of sunflowers invaded his nose, he could almost smell the sun. He lifted his ass up off the car seat and re-adjusted himself. He stretched out his long legs and allowed himself to grin.

They said the shopping mall had a great variety. Those folks didn't even know the extent of his shopping needs, but they were right. One stop shop. He almost whooped in the car, but how would that look to those on the road with him? No, celebrating could wait. The sun came out from behind the grey clouds and he basked for a few seconds. This day was getting better and better.

* * *

Triss Highland came awake slowly. Where was she? How did she get here? Her shoulders ached, but when she went to lift her hand to rub them, they were trapped. She peeled her eyelids from her eyeballs, trying to see where she was and why was it so uncomfortable? Her throat felt parched and she swallowed only to find her mouth filled as well. Instantly, her heart went into overdrive, pounding in her chest. She struggled, cutting her wrists. She wanted to scream, but fear clogged her throat.

"What's happening?" garbled out of her mouth.

"You're awake," a blurry figure . . . male, from up front said. "Good, I hate it when I have to start with out the other party."

He twisted around to face her. She couldn't make out much but a flash of white.

She tried to lift her head, but it weighed about a hundred pounds. "What's wrong with me?" She coughed, gagged, thought she was going to vomit. "I . . . I need to sit up," she managed to say.

"Not yet, darlin'," came the response. "I need you to stay put for a while longer." The white flashed again, she realized it was his smile.

Sandy tried once more to lift her head and the world spun. With a sigh, she lowered her head, neck muscles strained and throbbing. "Why?" It was all she could think to ask.

"Because, sweetheart, you'll complete my collection." His blue eyes glinted at her in the rearview mirror. "You're what's missing," he said more to himself than to her. "Just what I need." His voice turned toward her, another flash. "I've been searching for you."

She struggled for a few more minutes. Useless. Her heart slowed as if with acceptance, but it was the drugs, she knew she'd been drugged. With what? How? Her final thought before yielding to unconsciousness was, I'm no one's collection.